Badgunky
by Midwich Cuckoo
Summary: Writers are the gods of their worlds and when gods die, their creations are threatened with ultimate annihilation. Mutants combine their powers, wanting to stop inevitable destruction.
1. The Play

English translation of my Złamazia fanfic.

**Beta reader:** Slightconfuse (thank you VERY much :) )

**Disclaimer:** Neither the X-Men nor Stephen King's works are my property. If they were, I'd be, according to the lovely saying of the jealous, "filthy" rich.

**Chapter 1: The Play**

When the orange ball of burning African sun had already vanished from the horizon and in its place on the sky, a linen of impeccable blackness, only sparsely spotted by a bright point of some distant star, the silverish, sardonically smiled heavenly fatso - the moon - rolled in, Darweshi Bahame aka Afterlife, for the whole day impatiently awaiting the moment when he'd be able to give vent to the desires filling him, with a malicious grin playing on his lips, slid under the quilt. His desires were not less dark than the darkness which was now surrounding Zanzibar City.

Closing his eyelids to make sleep arrive as fast as possible to reopen the gate to the world the self-appointed ruler of which he announced himself so many centuries ago, Afterlife thought with satisfaction that The Play, although he participated in it almost every night since he only could remember, didn't lose anything of its attractiveness to him.

The truth about Darweshi's origin could get him into big troubles if only someone was to know it, but it was one of the last entries on the list of potential worries for the boy. Even if one day he was going to pay the highest price for who he was, it wouldn't actually mean anything. He would find a new body fast, just as he was doing it throughout centuries. Darweshi Bahame – that was the name he had in this life – was one of those, who, hated by ordinary people, started to appear more and more often in the second half of the previous century.

Many, many years ago, Mother Nature in her infinite wisdom thought fit to add to the genetic equipment of his original body an additional pack which for many turned out a burden impossible to carry, and which not earlier than barely several dozen of years ago waited to get a name – the X-Gene.

Even for a mutant (a filthy mutie as he'd be described by the members of organization like FoH who as early as that very night would very regret this mistake) Darweshi Bahame was someone extraordinary. Born in a tribe wandering the steppes of Mongolia in the sixth century of our era, having a different name back then, he discovered the nature of his mutation not before his death of that body.

In his real shape he wasn't a human being like those among whom he lived, a being of flesh and blood but a psionic entity, a sort of immortal astral parasite. The looks of a young teen was deceptive, Afterlife was older than almost all mutants living currently. Never so far, even now when the existence of the representatives of the homo superior species wasn't a secret for anybody, had he heard about someone with a power similar to this which he was endowed with himself.

The X-Gene, the carrier of which was his first body, defined his real form forever, stripping him off any corporeality and making him, it seemed, the only man in history before whom all secrets of the White Hot Room were spreading out very clearly.

It was this amazing dimension of reality, existing beyond time and space, into which the souls liberated from the ties of matter wandered, being at the same time the place where the Phoenix resided was a natural environment of this mutant.

It was where he rested between next incarnations, exploring the secrets of the universe and forgetting them almost completely when only, desiring a change from the perfection of this land, he made a decision about descending into the plane of the earthly dimension one more time to, clothed in body again, be able to sense them only in his dreams.

The choice of a new body and a new life waiting for him, for Darweshi being which would be making a decision about buying new clothes for an ordinary person, was preceded by long lasting preparations and thoughts. A man? A woman? A white person, a representative of the black race or maybe an Asian person this time?

Previous epochs dripping with prejudices accustomed him to a male sex and white skin; a woman or a representative of a different race than white (this time he made an exception) he used to be highly rarely in the past. Never also, but for just one time, he had a body containing the X-Gene.

It was in the 9th century on the Indonesian island Celebes using a name of Sulawesi back then. Darweshi, whose name was Tuti that time, lived there as a woman possessing a dangerous talent for total or partial morphing of her body into a sort of caustic, deathly venomous reddish mist, easily killing a person who was unlucky enough to breathe its lethal vapors. Tuti was worshipped as a goddess by the people from her tribe.

From time to time, having thought it's a good time to remind the islanders of the power she possessed, Tuti liked to roam pulmonary canaliculi of those she found too unimportant to be ever of use for her in the future.

Ah, delightful memories. Many centuries and lives later, Afterlife waiting for sleep in the cozy darkness of his bedroom, couldn't help the next cruel smile.

He remembered all his incarnations very well. Since the time of Tuti and her cruel reigns more than a thousand of years had passed, old habits die slowly though. The young Zanzibarian didn't belong to those who are described by the people from their surroundings by such adjectives as noble, moral and decent, that's no doubt.

Even if nobody's brain could ever produce a suspicion that he was someone more than only an extraordinarily intelligent (knowledge and experience gathered by him in the previous incarnations didn't leave him when he decided for the next one) teenager from one of the wealthiest families inhabiting Unguja (the honor of becoming his parents was as a rule credited only very affluent people) even a person most favorably disposed to him couldn't call him likeable.

Now he was waiting for sleep… for a real thrill to which even the most sophisticated pleasures of the earthly world couldn't equal. Waiting for the play he was giving himself up to almost every night when the whole house remained in deep sleep.

The possibility of exploring this amazing plane of existence where the material universe ended and the land of spirit and imagination started, the existence of which was sensed only by mystics and quantum physicists was one thing but the ability to create his own pocket dimension, like everybody who as a pure bodiless ghost descended into this place, was already a different story.

Unlike other beings, sometimes human ones, sometimes not, he had met in the White Hot Room, Darweshi Bahame, now at least, was alive, he had a body to which he could return in every moment but, just as those who were already just ghosts living their own versions of the afterlife beyond the cool, white walls of Death's towers, he possessed the ability to create his own world over which he had full control.

In the daylight, the boy didn't show any unusual abilities, at night though he got back the powers lost with the new day arriving and his waking up for the material reality. Like a blood sniffing hound, with ease he tracked down sleeping minds drifting on the astral plane, oblivious to dangers lying in wait.

Sleep is a deathly dangerous time about which few know the risk of, a time when it's immensely ease to lose your soul – especially if your mind got too close to Afterlife's domain.

Sleeping ones with whom the mutant got a mental connection, were lost for the world – until the daybreak… or for the whole eternity. In the latter case, the doctors hinted at an unexpected heart attack which took the victim by surprise at night although the truth was completely different. Darweshi Bahame's bloody gospel sang the praises of the most horrible atrocities known to human race as the highest and noblest form of fun.

First the cheerful, frantic excitation that accompanied the choice of a new plaything for this night and the hunting taking place afterwards; a cruel game invariably ending with the minds of the unfortunate ones being trapped in the world created by Afterlife's fertile imagination.

A random person whose whole fault was that they found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time could count on being released when the night started to flee from the first shy glare of daybreak, but, if it was someone unlucky enough to have incurred young Bahame's displeasure before… well, then the matters started to take a turn for the worse. For the very, very worst. Afterlife's pocket dimension was a true to life embodiment of the worst nightmare a human being can ever encounter.

Instruments of torture the inquisition would envy him, fire, the multicolored flames of which were licking astral bodies of those who found themselves in there, giant spiders and twining vermin, lakes of molten metal – all of those created by the power of imagination of the mutant but how realistic to his victims.

Many of questionable attractions of this world were taken from Christian descriptions of hell, about which the Church was talking rubbish for centuries, not going to let its, not that meek sheep out. Actually, many a vision of hell's torment was just a very clear memory of someone's not too delightful moments spent in Darweshi's kingdom.

The awaken ones, as a rule were able to recall all the events of the previous night although they took their experiences for exceptionally scary nightmares. One of the most emphasizing personality features of Afterlife was his willingness to dominate, to have total control over the victim.

Not being the embodiment of pure evil – the cruelest torture was just a play for him, an innocent joke he liked to make to others – he was characterized by deep maliciousness and the desire to make people suffer.

Living for so long, he had the time to have experienced everything and now only sadistic practices were able to keep his interest, other pleasures of life were already pale shadows of what they used to be.

Afterlife sent into the darkness one wide shark-like grin more before he felt he's falling asleep. Slipping out of his body, he was searching for the minds he'd use this night. He was waiting for a victim.


	2. Boo'ya Moon

Thank you all for your praises and encouragement to keep writing. Especially **Moviemom44** who undertook the job of beta reader for this chapter. Recently, I didn't have time for writing but it's going to change.

A small gratis added to the second chapter is a profile of its character created by me once to satisfy the demands of a thread on creating our own mutants in the X-Men III section of IMDB boards:

**Name:** Holger Hirsch  
**Mutant Name:** Property  
**Classification:** Epsilon mutant  
**Affiliation:** The Shadow King  
**Age:** 15  
**Sex:** Male  
**Height:** 172 cm  
**Weight:** 62 kg  
**Hair:** Ginger, curly, longish  
**Eyes:** Blue  
**Skin:** Pale with freckles  
**Powers:** He possesses a living shadow

Many young mutants wish they had mutant parents who thanks to this would be able to understand what their children go through. Holger Hirsch though would willingly sacrifice everything only to come from the most ordinary family in the world. His father from whom the boy inherited his X-Gene was a cruel Austrian criminal; his mutant power was the ability to open the portal to an odd dimension which remained untouched by human feet until Holger's family settled in there. The whole dimension consists of a single tropical island with strange exotic plants and animals not seen anywhere in our world. When Holger was 6, his father who was accused of a murder to avoid prison took the whole family to this place. For the next several years the boy lived in there, abused every day, slowly forgetting about the world he left behind him.

For years every day of his life looked the same... until his mutation activated and everything changed. Holger Hirsch is an unfortunate mutant. The X-Gene gave him a shadow which got sentience after the boy's mutation manifested itself. The very first thing the shadow or maybe rather Shadow did after it got sentience and consciousness was committing a brutal rape on its owner followed by setting the island on fire. Holger was the only one who survived.

Shadow is intelligent but its nature is everything but friendly. It is able to change its shape or even leave its owner's body for some time whenever it wants. And when it does, it almost always happens so because Shadow is going to pursue some evil goal. Actually, we could say it's Shadow who has powers because Holger himself shows no sign of any supernatural abilities; it's his shadow which possesses limited pyro- and telekinesis and the ability to go through solid surfaces like walls as well. When separated from its owner, Shadow has a form of a grey humanoid the only visible features of face of whom are big, all black eyes and maliciously smiling, wide mouth. Now, when his father is dead, Holger is trapped in the island dimension but his shadow doesn't find entering the real world any problem, it can do it with ease and every time when Shadow comes back from its escapades to our world, it informs the boy with malicious satisfaction about evil deeds committed by it in there, leaving Holger with pricks of conscience – he feels guilty because it was, after all he who called Shadow into being. Shadow loves malicious pranks made to people to upset them, not only to people it encountered in our world but also to its owner (hmm, who is the owner here and who is the property, we should ask ourselves first). After the first rape, Shadow punished Holger in this way many times to remind him he's only a teenage boy with no power, that he's its property and it can do everything it wants to him. From time to time though Shadow is able to behave in quite a friendly manner. The teen has no power over his evil shadow and can't control it.

Recently a new change took place in Holger's sad life filled with loneliness, boredom and physical and emotional abuse. Not knowing about this, the boy is a distant relative of no one else but The Shadow King himself. The Shadow King being born many centuries ago as a telepathic mutant who after his physical body's death started to live on the astral plane possessing other people's bodies from time to time, as a mortal man had children one of whom in turn became a distant ancestor of the young mutant. The telepathic mutant contacted the boy, making a promise he'd help him get rid of Shadow if the boy joined him. The teen accepted the proposition. For all his life he was treated as someone's property – his abusive father's, his shadow's and now the Shadow King's. If following orders of The Shadow King means in spite of remaining a slave of his evil ancestor he'll be able to run away from his tormentor, Holger will do everything, regardless of what he'll be ordered to do.

**Second chapter: Boo'ya Moon**

A pale head of the moon, full now as it always was here, shone with a cold cadaverous glow also on the sky of Boo'ya Moon. Its reflection in the deep water of the pond was like the face of a vigilant guardian observing with cool amusement the prisoners of this exotic trap. Some of them, although the time was late, were still sitting on the stone benches that surrounded the pond. Others strolled slowly along the white sands of the beach, their expressions constantly vacant, as always, their eyes void of all emotion.

Recently, there were more of those lost souls – whoever they could be - than before and this day was no exception, although before nightfall a few of them managed to go away, presumably back to wherever they arrived from.

Holger Hirsch was trying not to look at them, fixing his eyes instead on the impenetrable blackness of the sky on which night had painted a complicated pattern of strange stars and constellations unknown to ordinary people that burned now above his head.

The uniqueness of this magnificent world, which in daylight seemed to be a paradise-like idyll, but in darkness showed a very different face, had stopped making an impression on him a long time ago. A child, at an astoundingly fast rate, adapts to the condition in which it was raised and even if later that same child were to spend its whole life in a different place, it's that very first place which would still be considered by the child as the most ordinary and natural place for it.

Boo'ya Moon was actually the only world Holger knew. The one from which he arrived nine years ago at the age of six had, from that time, managed to vanish from his memory almost completely, leaving the young mutant with barely a handful of broken, fragmented memories.

It was a place where, as far as he knew, except for his family and the mysterious wanderers from the pond, remained untouched by any other human feet. And even they, his only companions at the moment, didn't count for Holger as 'real' people, resembling as they paced in their contemplative state breathing dead bodies or life-sized, amazingly realistic wax figures. It was a place which…well, WAS. Yes, the very fact of its existence was the only thing you could say about it for sure when you were crazy enough—or insolent enough—to make an attempt to define what Boo'ya Moon really was.

Nobody knew this, not even Holger's deceased father, who many years ago accidentally discovered the entry to it. A long time ago, Stefan Hirsch discovered he could teleport into here when, as a teenage criminal running away from the police after snatching some woman's handbag, all of a sudden he simply found himself in here, straight from the street in Linz. Leaving the confused cops behind, he had recognized a spot of violet which suddenly surrounded him as a wide field of lupine with him standing in the middle of it still clutching the stolen handbag, staring at a copse of trees the likes of which he had never seen before. They appeared similar to palms, but with their trunks covered with a strange moss that looked almost like fluffy fur.

That was how he visited this place for the first time. As his criminal career flourished, Stefan learned that the best way to get rid of witnesses to his crimes was a short trip with them to this magic land. Occasionally, this plan failed, when for some mysterious reason, his captive was like an anchor to the real world, making an expedition to this world impossible for both of them. He was successful with the great majority however in coming to this world—Stefan named it Boo'ya Moon; he just liked the sound of those words—and it was where he finally settled accounts with them, hidden from the unwelcome looks of those who might like to interrupt.

Every victim was buried in an improvised grave marked with a simple wooden homemade cross. It's said that psychopaths like to collect evidences of their crimes and Stefan Hirsch was no exception to this rule. It made him specifically proud that he was the only serial killer who had his own cemetery where the dead bodies of those whom he took here and killed were resting.

Later, after having settled permanently in there with his wife and children, when he would pass by the graveyard with Holger, he liked to tell him about the details of the murders, giggling like he was relating his favorite joke to his son. Accused of a crime from which he couldn't escape this time and threatened with a penalty of many years in prison, Stefan had made Boo'ya Moon a place of exile for his whole family. They all lived in there until last year…until the mutation of his oldest son who had inherited the X-Gene from him manifested.

A silhouette of a ginger haired teen cowering on the beach, tightly embracing himself with his arms to keep warm despite his thin clothing, reflected vaguely in the mirror of the water. Holger was trying to avert his eyes from the pond. Looking into those depths seemed too dangerous; it was enough to look at those who were sitting on the benches, unmoving, staring into space, observing with great concentration something only they were able to see. What was that? What did they see that he couldn't?

That remained as secret as the identity of the mysterious guests to Boo'ya Moon, although the youth, covered with bruises and deep cuts from what Shadow was doing to him, spent a lot of sleepless nights trying to solve this riddle to engage his mind in something. He was desperately seeking a way to return to the real world which he almost didn't remember anymore. The people from the pond were a secret of this place, which was a mystery itself. Was it a strange planet? A different dimension? A product of his father's imagination? Even if it was purely the manifestation of his father's mutation—the boy realized mutations were extremely varied and not always beneficial for their owners; he was a sad example of this himself—the world which might have been brought into being by his father didn't disappear with the cruel man's death. Shadow was no less ruthless and cruel, but unlike his father who finally vanished from Holger's life forever, there was no guarantee the same thing would happen to him too one day. After all, even if Holger wished for it more than anything in the world, how could he ever expect to get rid of his own shadow?

So, Hirsch senior's death—Shadow, just after becoming self-aware, killed him and the rest of Holger's family; the boy didn't miss his psychopathic parent, but he'd do anything to be able to see his mother and two younger sisters once more—didn't result in the automatic destruction of the place he may or may not have created. Similarly, the catatonics from the pond didn't stop appearing either. Holger never met any of them in any other area of Boo'ya. There weren't very many of them, but their number shifted enough that it invariably made the boy ask himself how they got here. Because if the entrance existed…there must be an exit as well. It was impossible to get any sensible answer from them in any manner. Even if they could see Holger and hear his questions, their only reaction was a wild look in their eyes, as if the water from the pond that they found so fascinating was a caustic acid eating away huge gaping holes in their brain tissue. The teenager was afraid he'd stay in there forever. The very prospect of staying on Boo'ya was horrible enough for him…but then there was Shadow, too.

The boy's body shuddered slightly in the chill of the night, but even the cold wasn't enough to keep his eyelids from growing heavier and heavier and finally drifting shut. The aromas of bougainvillea, frangipani and the One Night Queen surrounded him. From somewhere far away, the barely audible but familiar giggling of the laughters was brought to him on the wings of the fragrant night wind as it ruffled his curly, ginger colored hair that was just a bit too long now. Laughters were the living embodiment of the dark side of Boo'ya Moon, the part which manifested itself in all its glory when the silver skull of the moon showed in the sky, dethroning the sun from its daytime rule. Half animal, half human in a ghastly way, they were evil, like everything here in the night time, except maybe the water from the pond. It was these creatures, which he had never had the occasion to see close up, that were the reason he was stuck here, having dawdled for too long on the beach, trying in vain to talk with these breathing wax statues. The best answer he got was some mumbling from some nutso with her wrists cut and dripping blood, talking gibberish about her sister, some Lisey gal, but when he tried to encourage her to tell him something more the woman fell silent, sinking into catatonia again. He would have to wait now until morning before he could return safely home.

Here, close to the pond, it was safe. At least, that was what he wanted to believe, what his instincts told him. It was the same instinct that warned him about Shadow's arrival whenever he came back, returning after a few days of absence, having set out on some escapade of his shady business. Holder's eyelids grew heavier and heavier. For a moment, the young mutant fought sleep, the remnants of the instinct of self-preservation suggesting that if some creature broke into this safe enclave, he wouldn't be able to defend himself while sleeping, but fatigue was stronger than the voice of reason, regardless of how rationally it was resounding in his head. The boy lay down on the cold sand, trying to find the most comfortable position to sleep. He wriggled for some time, yawned aloud, and barely a moment later his blue eyes closed and his breathing became even. He fell asleep.

Something stirred in the darkness. Holger shuddered, regaining consciousness instantly. A slight fit of sudden fear ran across his body. Someone was standing beyond him; the boy could sense it. Was it Shadow who had returned? The teen was lucky to have spent the last four days in blissful solitude, far from his tormentor. It seemed those delightful four days just ended. What was Shadow going to do to him this time? Had he invented any new torture? Slowly, scared and clenching his suddenly shaking hands, Holger turned away. looking to the eyes of the one who was eyeing him up and down with a well-known greedy glare that said, 'you're my property, brat, and it's my right to do with my property whatever I want.' But it wasn't Shadow. The individual who, Holger didn't know for how long, squatted there beyond him while he slept was a strange black skinned teen, a bit younger than the mutant. Small, white teeth, the brightest element on his slim, black face, were bared in a wide smile, like a shark that had just smelled the blood of its next meal.


	3. Meeting on the astral plane

**Beta:** Moviemom44 – as always.

And here comes the small gratis added to this chapter - the profiles of my two characters I once posted on the IMDB X-Men board. I thought I could use them now.

**Name:** Beryl Lagner - Donaldson  
**Mutant Name:** Soul  
**Classification:** Omega mutant  
**Category:** Neutral  
**Occupation:** Student  
**Affiliation:** Herself  
**Age:** 14  
**Sex:** Female  
**Location:** New York  
**Ethnicity:** American of Italian origin (her mother's family was from Italy)  
**Hair:** Black, curly  
**Eyes:** Green

**Powers:** Her 'body' is composed of pure psychic energy, which gives her PSI powers. The girl is a high-level telepath, able to mentally possess people, because, as her mutant name suggests, she's just a soul with no real body of her own. She can control the bodies of others while their owners don't even realize what's happening to them. Sometimes, she chooses to have her 'hosts' lose consciousness while she uses their bodies. She is virtually immortal, because she is able to possess any human being or animal, potentially living this way for many, many centuries. She is also able to live on the astral plane as an entity of pure energy. Beryl is an Omega mutant even though there are still many things about her powers she must still learn due to her young age and her lack of experience in using them.

Beryl was born in Chicago where she also spent the next 9 years of her life. Her mother died in an accident when the girl was just three months old so she stayed only with her father, a petty criminal.

Even before her mutation manifested, Beryl was always different than her peers. She was a child characterized by a very high IQ - borderline genius - and a fascination with science. Contrary to this popular way of perceiving highly intelligent kids as silent, shy geeks wearing thick glasses and unfashionable clothes, Beryl never fit into this stereotype. Pretty, very outgoing and full of energy that seemed to never run out, she was spoiled by all adults. Thanks to her intelligence, she was very mature and sophisticated for her age and as a result all adults admired her. She couldn't help perceiving herself as better than others--smarter, more interesting--which made her very narcissistic and a bit too arrogant. This, however, did not mean she wasn't nice person to spend time with; she simply loved it too much when other people's attention was concentrated on her.

When the girl was 9 her father was shot by the mobsters he had contacts with. She was adopted by Ronald and Rosemary Donaldson - her father's friend and his wife who were living in New York. She was raised by them together with their two children, who were both younger than she.

When Beryl was 13, she started having severe health problems that doctors were not able to identify. Her foster parents spent a lot of money on specialists to try and help her, but still one by one her organs stopped functioning. The teen had problems with practically everything--walking, seeing, hearing. She suffered strong pains in her whole body. These problems would appear suddenly and then disappear again just as mysteriously, only to reappear soon after.

Three months after the first symptoms of her mysterious illness appeared, something suddenly changed. One day Beryl started to hear voices in her head. But she could tell it wasn't just another symptom indicating that something was wrong with her brain as well. It made her think she could be a telepathic mutant but she decided not to tell anyone.

Four days later another untypical thing took place and changed the girl's life forever. She was lying in bed when suddenly she realized she was looking down at her own body while her consciousness seemed to be somewhere outside, not restrained by the natural barrier of flesh. It was like she was an ethereal ghost, pure energy not needing her own body to survive. The shock made her go back into her body, but when she shook herself free of her initial fear, the teenager decided to see if she was able to leave her body again. And she did. After several experiments the truth started to seep into the brain of the newly manifested mutant – her mutation made her a being of pure psychic energy, able to live beyond her physical body. Her health problems were the first manifestation of her power. In fact she came to understand that her body was merely an empty crust and not something she needed to survive.

Her health problems subsided during the next days and all the doctors called it a medical miracle, since they didn't want to reveal the truth which was that they had no idea what had happened. They told her family it was all probably due to nerves or anxiety. Strange as it seems, they said, sometimes physical symptoms have a mental origin, especially in adolescent girls.

Beryl started to experiment with her powers in secret, trying to discover their kind and limits. It turned out they were in fact psionic in nature. First of all, she was a strong telepath, able to read minds and project her thoughts into other people's minds. Her telepathy also had another aspect, allowing her to possess people, control their behavior, erase their memories or create illusions in their minds.

Beryl Lagner – Donaldson is believed to be an Omega mutant although she still has a lot to learn about her power. Her physical body will obviously die one day but she – as the psionic entity her X-gene designed her to be - is immortal for she can possess others and live in their bodies. She is also able to visit the astral plane and live there if for some reason she cannot find a host.

**Name:** Athula Serasinghe  
**Mutant Name:** Mind Traveler  
**Occupation:** Retired carpenter  
**Affiliation:** None  
**Age:** 82  
**Sex:** Male  
**Location:** Galle, Sri Lanka  
**Height:** 169 cm  
**Weight:** 82 kg  
**Hair:** Thick, longish, still mostly black but with numerous streaks of grey hair  
**Eyes:** Dark brown  
**Skin:** Dark brown complexion  
**Powers:** Ability to enter the astral plane

Athula Serasinghe is one of the few known representatives of _Homo superior_ from Sri Lanka, but that isn't the only thing that makes him unusual, even for a mutant. First of all, born in the 1920s, when nobody knew about the X-gene or its carriers, he is one of the oldest mutants living now. The other thing that makes him unique is his ability which has been observed very rarely in mutants.

I wonder if any of you have ever come across the idea that all human thoughts, dreams and desires, especially those that are of great importance to their creators, eventually become part of the astral plane, where they remain forever embedded in their own small dimensions, like a fly in a piece of amber. Writers, movie directors, painters - anyone concentrated on an artistic vision - is included here. Every novel that was ever written, every movie ever filmed, even every fantastic dream created by a teenager's overactive imagination gets its own place somewhere in the astral world, inhabits its own small dimension. Only a high-level telepath on an astral journey is able to actually get into that dimension--a telepath or Athula Serasinghe.

Serasinghe doesn't show any other telepathic abilities. He isn't able to read other people's thoughts, although other telepaths have told him he is much easier to contact telepathically than an ordinary person, probably due to his mutation. His sole gift is the ability to visit the part of the astral plane that is created by human imagination, but, oddly enough, only the imaginations of others and not his own. He is also limited to only thought dimensions, as he cannot manipulate the fabric of the worlds he visits (or rather, he can, but only to a very small extent). He also cannot enter any other area of the astral world, such as the place where the dead go after death.

Athula Serasinghe came from a big, poor family living in a small village. He had no opportunity for formal education. He was smart but practically illiterate until he was an adult man. As a teenage boy he had to work hard. All his plans for improving the life of his family fizzled out one by one. His ability manifested itself when he was 15. He told only his parents about it but they thought him to be a liar because he couldn't prove it.

All he has to do to visit in these 'mind dimensions' is to think he wants to be in there. He can enter a specific world or a random one. Now that he can read, he can make specific choices more easily. There are so many exciting book worlds floating on the astral plane! His favorites are the world of 'Lord of the Rings' and a place called Boo'ya Moon, a fascinating place created by the power of imagination of none other than Stephen King himself in his book 'Lisey's Story.' Everything in these worlds seems real to Athula when he is there. He can take the role of an observer or decide to cooperate with 'people' he meets there by taking part in their adventures and talking with them. But, a vigilant eye can easily see that the people he meets are one-dimensional, behaving stereotypically like programmed 'automatons' with no minds of their own. After all, they really are nothing more than the shreds of someone's imagination. But they are real enough for Athula for whom one of the most exquisite pleasures of visiting those amazing worlds is the sex he can have with beautiful inhabitants. He always loved women and that didn't change when he got old. The soulless but pretty 'thought automatons' willingly allow him to do with them everything he wants. His favorite lover is always Galadriel, who, he admits, is much more beautiful in the world of J.R.R. Tolkein's imagination than her movie counterpart.

While visiting the astral, Athula doesn't need to eat nor sleep regardless of how much time he spends in there. Even if he's hurt in there he can always go back to his physical body (which during his travels looks like he is asleep). He doesn't know what would happen if he was killed while on one of his astral travels but prefers not to check this. He hopes though that if his physical body happened to die while he is on the trip to the mind dimensions, his mind would remain forever in there – a form of immortality. He plans to not come back to his body one day. He's an old man who hopes he'll be able to live forever as a pure thought in the thought worlds he was able to visit since he was a boy.

Recently old Serasinghe came to the attention of literary critics in the city of Galle where he lives. He moved there from the north of his country out of fear of the Tamil Tigers organization and their attacks on civilian targets. Through his association with a low-level telepath whose abilities include receiving other's thoughts, such as Athula's, and then projecting them into the minds of others, Serasinghe has been able to show the critics how famous writers imagined the characters and places they wrote about. In many cases, it is a surprise for the critics to see how much the author's visions differ from the movies based on their books. Athula receives money for sharing this information.

Athula Serasinghe didn't know that this ability he possessed since his early youth was a mutant power. He found out there were other people with supernatural powers, mutants like him, some time around 1970. He personally knows professor Xavier who contacted him after reading about a couple of mutants from Sri Lanka whose cooperation revealed the secrets of the minds of famous writers to the literary world. Athula is the kind of person who likes the pleasures of life and enjoys living life to the fullest. He's a benign, cheerful old man but from time to time he can be also cunning and greedy because his poor childhood and life filled with hard work taught him that if he didn't take care of himself no one else would do it. He's still a very robust man living a healthy lifestyle – he eats mostly fruit. He was raised as a Buddhist but later on in life he stopped thinking about religions even if he isn't a total atheist. Now, as an old man he walks with a limp and must use a cane.

**Chapter 3: Meeting on the astral plane**

Afterlife, however rarely devoting any thought to this issue, wasn't the only one whose mutation endowed him with an amazing ability to explore realms lying beyond the plane of our reality. Although in every mutant, their X-Gene might show itself a bit differently, Bahame wasn't the only one able to do this.

The sickly smell of the roses having the intensive color of arterial blood filled the air. It was pleasantly cool even if the sun was in its zenith. Here, on the astral plane, the rules of the real world didn't remain in force and Beryl had already had enough time to get used to it. Now, after a year of exploring the worlds many times utterly different from the one she was raised in, the girl was an experienced astral traveler.

The teen looked around. Her gaze caught the sight of a field of roses stretching out, as far as her eye only could see and a tower built of some sort of black stone, towering over the flower field far away. The tower looked almost sooty; it was the stones it was built of that made such an impression, although the building, the dark silhouette of which vaguely loomed up in the horizon, was not a creation of human hands and as such couldn't be built of any stones. It was an illusion made of the delicate astral matter, mere creation of human imagination, like everything in here, even if the tower the girl looked at once could indeed exist at some point in time.

Beryl sat in the grass from which the roses were emerging, bending her neck to smell the flower growing close to her. Finally she could be alone, far from any people in the world separating her from them and their trivial problems. This place was her rest after the whole day spent in school and later in a mall with her giggling friends, pretending she was exactly like them. Laura, Susan and Nina were nice but so conventional, although certainly they wouldn't mind if they ever were to find out that their friend was a mutant. Beryl, although barely fourteen, was one of the most powerful mutants ever walking the Earth. Only reality warpers could say they surpass her, although the teen herself realized this only partially. Her health problems she dealt with last year weren't a symptom of a mortal illness as the doctors feared but merely the first step of her mutation emerging. After all her organs conked out one by one, her body finally released her true form – pure energy for which her body was only a container.

In respect of her powers, the girl resembled Afterlife who would be delighted to discover the person with a talent similar to his. Soul – that was the codename she assumed – was living energy able to exist for whole centuries. Using her mutant gift, the girl could explore the astral plane. It was still fascinating to her, not any less than when she was taking a trip beyond her body for the first time a year ago. In those realms – sometimes beautiful and sometimes scary – Soul had met many other astral travelers, mostly other telepaths whose mind powers were strong enough to take them in there.

One of them was waving to her now from the field of roses where he was standing. Beryl raised her head and smiled. She recognized her friend instantly although she didn't expect to see him now. Under ordinary circumstances this acquaintance wouldn't ever be made. Athula Serasinghe was from Sri Lanka, like Suvik Senyaka, that guy who was on Magneto's side, according to the TV reports. He wasn't a teen like herself. He turned 82 this year and as he often repeated to his young friend since they met a few months ago, one day he planned to stay in here, leaving his old tired body behind so he could wander the boundless worlds created by human imagination for the rest of eternity. His power allowed him to enter those parts of the astral plane that came into being in people's imaginations. Even if those people lived many millennia ago. Not many people knew that thoughts, dreams and desires became part of the astral realms where they remained forever like flies embedded in a piece of golden amber, but only if they were important enough to their creators. Every novel, movie, even every dream ever dreamed and every picture painted – all of them got their place in there – small pocket dimensions only those who knew how to do it were capable of getting into. Such a person was Athula Serasinghe. His power allowed him to visit them all wherever he felt like doing it, leaving his body behind, looking like the old man had just taken the final trip to the other world. No one who saw him while he was on these journeys - he appeared to be sleeping - would guess how close to this truth they really were.

"I see you found your way to the Dark Tower," said Athula, smiling at the teen. The old man's face reflected his contentment at being here. Having left his tired body, as always he took huge delight in visiting this amazing realm created by the pure power of the thoughts of all the millions of people who ever lived, even if their time on Earth or whatever place they resided in, had come to an end countless years ago.

"What's the Dark Tower exactly?" asked the teen, intrigued, as she smiled back at the gesture of salutation. The sight of the black tower far beyond, casting its irregular shade on the field of roses intrigued her in a way unknown to her yet. The girl felt like following it and checking what could be found inside.

"Someone hasn't heard of the writer from her own country?" giggled the old man in a genial way, making the deep wrinkles crossing his face smooth out for a moment. It seemed like Athula had just heard the funniest thing in the world.

"Well, I'm not sure what writer exactly you are talking about," reluctantly admitted Beryl. The tone of her voice suddenly assumed a bit colder temperature although only a trained ear would be able to detect it. If there was ever a thing Soul truly hated from the bottom of her heart, it was admitting there was ever a thing she didn't know.

"Don't even dare to tell me, girlie, that you are not familiar with Stephen King," The old man's smile widened even more, like he was dealing with a silly little child.

"Stephen King, sure, I know him. I read some of his works, "Beryl replied, "but I don't remember if I ever read the Dark Tower story. No, I never read it," the teen corrected herself instantly. "I have a very good memory, believe me on this, I always remember if I had to do with something or not and this Dark Tower isn't something I was ever exposed to."

"When you return to your body, the very first thing you should do should be go to the closest library. Or just turn the computer on and Google it," proposed Athula, still amused. "You, teenagers are all attached to your computers. I wish the net access existed when I was young. Then I would have found out much earlier that the thing I'm able to do is a mutant power. The old man's voice took on a dreamy, longing tone, like some sudden yearning for something, maybe his long lost youth, just woke up in his heart. "And when you are online, don't forget to check also 'Lisey's Story'," he suddenly added.

"Lisey's Story?"

"My favorite book by Mr. King. Maybe but for the Stand and The Talisman. And The Storm of The Century… but no, never mind, that one is just a screenplay for a movie. A very good movie, by the way. But it doesn't mean it isn't somewhere here as part of the astral plane, like everything else."

"I know those ones. But what is this 'Lisey's Story' about? Tell me. Or maybe, even better, you could show me the way in there," proposed the girl.

"In Lisey's Story there's found one of the most beautiful worlds I ever encountered. Boo'ya Moon. I won't speak about it to you as highly as I would like to because you could become disappointed. People your age can't appreciate the subtle beauty. I bet if I showed you the way to the Star Trek reality, you would like it much more. But I love this world. There isn't anything extraordinary about it. There are no people--well, maybe those freaks staring at that pound… but you'll see yourself what I meant. But when we are there, don't ever look into the pond... you could end up like those ones from the pond. But again, you will see on your own what I'm telling you about now when we arrive in there. But regardless of everything, remember this one thing - don't look at the pond. I think one day I'll leave my body to stay in here forever but staying in that very place forever isn't an option I'm fond of pondering for too long. But now let's not think of it. Do you want me to show you what Lisey's Story is about so you could see it with your own eyes?"

"Yes," Beryl answered simply. "Show me this Boo'ya Moon of yours."


	4. A New Challenge

Earlier.

Darweshi had set out on a hunt intent on tormenting another victim, as was his habit. He truly enjoyed the hunts, his reasons for conducting them lately becoming more and more trivial. Like that online spat he had participated in a couple of weeks ago. Anyone who wasn't Darweshi Bahame would have soon forgotten such an insignificant event, but Afterlife was different. And this adjective didn't cover only his origin. The next night, the boy found his unfortunate opponent only to put him in a lake created of blue fire he made in his astral realm. The man was going to spend the whole rest of eternity in there, until something changed Darweshi's mind on his ultimate fate. Meting the punishment out to this guy was so easy for the mutant from Zanzibar that it almost wasn't any fun at all. Tormenting this gibbering idiot as he was begging him for forgiveness, standing before him when his big dark eyes were filled with terror, was just too easy for Bahame who during those centuries when he walked the Earth became very sophisticated and decadent in the art of entertaining himself. Especially when it came to this one special play. Actually, Darweshi did it just because it seemed fair to him, not because he cared that much about this stupid man. He was just a mere mortal, unworthy of being paid such attention, at least by an entity like Afterlife. But he just had to do it. Nobody could quarrel with him, not even his own parents – the ones who were raising him in this lifetime. The Bahames weren't ever punished by their son in this particular way but they did spend many nights dreaming horrible nightmares – or at least that was what they thought those were. However they put it down to their subliminal pricks of conscience caused by the fact that they were forced to refuse him something or shouted at him. They shouldn't have done this. Young Darweshi was always such a wonderful child and now, just as he entered his teenage years, his mental development was unlike anything they had ever seen before. He was so intelligent and mature, quite like in this young body lived a soul of an old, experienced man. They shouldn't ever disagree with him on anything but be grateful for being blessed with this young genius for a son. Yes, that's for sure. Never ever.

Even if Darweshi's life in the body of a teenager from Unguja, Zanzibar, was his first one, he would have become spoiled under the influence of his parents who were always giving him everything and allowing him to do anything he pleased. He was cruel – any of his victims could confirm this – but even in the heart of this eternal entity pulsated a small twinge of something resembling pity, as he was looking at this cowering boy on the beach. This feeling wasn't completely unknown to Afterlife but was so rare that when the mutant ever happened to experience it, for a moment he had to recall, surprised, what it was called. Sometimes it was caused by the victim's absolute helplessness (though much more often the awareness that they were totally dependent on his will aroused him even more), but sometimes it just came by itself – even if the victim deserved their fate, whatever Darweshi could understand that to be. In the latter case, he was doing his best to drown this feeling out, tormenting the victim. Their screams for help soon killed any feeling of pity which got replaced by deep satisfaction. It was the time when it happened again. But… putting any moral scruples aside, what place was it anyway? Was it an astral realm the sleeping boy's mind wandered in or a real place into which Darweshi went? Sometimes it was impossible to state.

Now.

The small grain of pity the presence of which the mutant felt for the first time an hour ago, managed to develop, growing into a big plant – maybe the Zanzibar Gem Darweshi came to know in this life; it grew everywhere in his country - the roots of which slowly started to grow into the boy's soul. The young mutant could feel the roots of this metaphorical plant entwine his mind, seeping into it a new idea. The more Afterlife thought of this idea, the more he liked it.

Darweshi Bahame lived for many centuries during which he searched for victims in his never ending quest for pleasing himself when ordinary pleasures of life started to matter too little for him. But in all that time, he never encountered anything like this before. It wasn't about the ginger headed brat, Holger. That was his name, he revealed to Darweshi in a stuttering voice and with his eyes fixed on the ground, as if expecting that the black boy he saw when he woke would do something bad to him, punish him for an answer he wouldn't like.

It wasn't the white sand from the beach the boy was sleeping on but the expensive looking red carpet covering the floor of Bahame's kingdom. In spite of the air of luxury that surrounded it – one could think only Harun al Rashid or someone equal to him could stomp over something like that – the carpet wasn't expensive. Darweshi didn't need to spend even one shilling for it though if he one day wanted to become an owner of such a rug, his silly and wealthy parents would hand him as many Tanzanian shillings as he would wish for, on a silver plate. The carpet, just like the furniture the room was furnished with was just the product of his imagination. The subtle astral matter shaping this world looked real and solid but in fact was immaterial and if the boy so desired he could easily turn it into anything he wished. There was only one thing Darweshi's young guest shouldn't feel too confident of in here. A fiery pit from which the flames were belching out, was situated between a massive carved desk and a wardrobe, the door of which was ajar, revealing a row of luxurious suits. Darweshi's guest was now peeking at the flames every now and then but was trying to focus his gaze on the face of his interlocutor. He was scared and Darweshi wasn't surprised, given the kind of life he endured until he was found by him on this forgotten island. He took the boy to his realm soon after he arrived in there. It was a strange thing indeed – the proof that Boo'ya Moon – that's what Holger called it – wasn't a real place: Afterlife had the power to take people to his astral realm but only when they were asleep and Holger wasn't as he woke up when he felt something, some evil that all of a sudden emerged on the beach, surrounding him; his power limited him to people's souls not bodies. Boo'ya Moon wasn't real; it was just a mere creation of Holger's father's imagination (he must have been a mutant with such a power) which meant that for some reason Afterlife's powers didn't work here in the usual manner. Holger was awake but he could be taken by him into his realm. Another strange thing was that they could communicate with each other, understanding each other exquisitely well, which normally wouldn't have been possible other than in dreams. Holger spoke German while for Darweshi the native tongues were Swahili and English. He knew more than two dozen other languages which he learned during his previous lives; the knowledge gathered by him back then didn't leave him though he gained one practical skill more – the ability to hide this knowledge from others. If they found this out, his status of 'boy genius' would instantly shift to that of 'mutant'.

Holger Hirsch was scared of this newcomer to the land where he lived alone (almost) but he had no choice other than to share all the details of his life in here with this stranger. He told him everything. Everything. He didn't spare him the details of the life he led first with his cruel father beating the living daylights out of him for practically everything, and later, after his father's death, with Shadow who, just like some new bettered version of his father proclaimed Holger his property – he even addressed him like this - property; never Holger but just Property, as if it was the teen's real name – beating him and sometimes even raping (Here the boy closed his eyes, two silent tears trickling down his face. He shuddered at the very memory of it) . He showed Darweshi the rainbow of the healing bruises on his legs and arms which were Shadow's work. He told him all about this world in which any food which was good at the daylight, became poisonous at night (his father claimed so and if this world was his father's imagination, then it must have been so); the world in which at night evil creatures named laughters came out and in which some strange people appeared from time to time next to the pond which was found in the middle of the island, to apathetically sit there, unable or maybe rather not wanting to respond. Holger didn't manage to solve the mystery of them. But solving the mystery of them wasn't even half as important as getting rid of Shadow.

Afterlife was listening to the boy with the feeling slowly growing in his heart. It wasn't pity this time. The story of the boy was sad but Darweshi wasn't a sensitive person. There were several components of which the feeling consisted. First of all, there was this cruel cheerfulness the source of which was hiding in Darweshi's malice. The second one was the increasing feeling that this night trip had brought him a new challenge. Darweshi spoke this word aloud, making Holger look at him. Darweshi wasn't the embodiment of evil, it was just cruelty which dominated in his personality. Omnipresent cruelty fomented by the boredom which followed his many incarnations during which he tasted everything a human being can. But this cruelty didn't concern Holger any more. The young/old mutant was now totally focused on someone else. On Shadow. It was him whom most of the things about which Holger told Afterlife, concerned. Now all Bahame could think of was Shadow. He never saw him but he could imagine him, building his picture out of the shreds of things as revealed to him by the boy. He could see him with his mind's eyes – a humanoid creature with his big black eyes and maliciously smiling wide mouth no human could have which now was somewhere… none of them knew where exactly but the island didn't limit him in terms of the location in which he could be found. He could travel outside Boo'ya Moon whenever and wherever he wanted – a powerful entity, uninhibited by the barriers which made Holger trapped in here since his father's death. It was Shadow, of course who caused his death by setting the place where they lived ablaze. Shadow was very powerful. He was a challenge. One of the biggest challenges for Darweshi Bahame for many years. Not a VERY big challenge – Shadow couldn't be THAT insanely powerful – but still; a bigger one than all those stupid dreamers who wandered into Afterlife's realm and got stuck in there forever. They couldn't defend themselves. But with Holger's nemesis; his sentient mutation (Darweshi was pretty surprised; he knew mutations could be very varied but personally he never encountered a mutation which would be a living being on its own before) was completely different. Very powerful from what the teen said. This is why Afterlife resigned from doing whatever he wanted to do to Holger, deciding on choosing his sentient shadow instead. He decided he'd wait for the return of this unusual entity. He would check if this living shadow was as powerful as the boy from whose body he emerged claimed. In other words, Darweshi Bahame got a new challenge.


End file.
